


Wolf Brother

by Queenofthebees



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cunnilingus, Dark Jon Snow, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Jealous Jon Snow, Loss of Virginity, Murder, Nipple Play, Possessive Jon Snow, Sansa comes to Winterfell still betrothed to Harry, Seduction, Vaginal Fingering, Virginity Kink, and being resurrected brought all those feelings back to the forefront, canon divergence - Jon crushed on Sansa pre-series, post res Jon is sexually charged and thirsty for Sansa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-09 20:38:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15275727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenofthebees/pseuds/Queenofthebees
Summary: “What did you do?” Sansa hissed when the party returned and she was able to get him in private.He said nothing. Sansa swallowed thickly.“Jon,” she whispered. “Did you kill him?”“No,” he replied honestly. Her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t, I swear. I never raised a hand to him at all. It was an accident.”Sansa shook her head, whether signalling she didn’t believe him or accepting his answer, he didn’t know. But he didn’t care anyway.Harry was gone.Sansa would be his.





	Wolf Brother

The red woman had brought him back but a part of him remained dead.

That need to keep honour and do his duty was gone. He had no loyalty now to those around him, commanding things of him. Especially when he had not chosen them.

And he certainly had not chosen Harold Hardying as his Lord. The puffed up, pompous boy had no right to sit in Lord Eddard’s seat. He hadn’t even wedded and bedded Sansa yet.

But then, the thought of her laying on her back in bed, Harry grunting and thrusting above her like a beast made him clench his fists, made him wish looks could kill so Harry would drop off that damn chair.

He had changed since he had come back. More wolf than man sometimes, he heard people say. And it was true. He was quick to snap and snarl at people, more violent in battle and more possessive with what he felt should be his.

His memories had changed since he had come back. Feelings for Sansa that he had repressed years before had come flooding back when he first saw her in Winterfell’s courtyard, as radiant as ever with her porcelain skin, large blue eyes and red hair coming undone from her braid.

Almost every night, he took himself in hand and imagined her in his bed with those big blue eyes looking up at him as she took his cock between those pretty pink lips. He imagined his fingers tugging her hair to guide her, whispering filthy things to make her flush as he fucked that perfect little mouth.

He would stare at that mouth during council meetings or banquets, watching the curve of a smile or how it would press in a thin line of disapproval. At first, Sansa had either not noticed or ignored him. But one morning, after a council meeting, she followed him down the corridor and tugged on his arm.

“Do you wish to say something to me?” she demanded, eyes hard.

Jon smiled despite himself as he imagined her on her knees for the millionth time staring up at him.

“Nothing you would wish to hear, my lady.”

That was true. If he murmured the filth he imagined on a daily basis, sweet Sansa would be horrified.

_Better you than Harry._

_At least you would make her love it, crave it._

Once, Jon Snow would have wept at the thought of not being Ned Stark’s son after all. But being a Targaryen was more of a blessing than he could ever have imagined.

Sansa could be his. It was no sin to lie with a cousin after all.

“Why do you stare at me all the time?” she asked one morning as she read a letter in her solar and Jon let his eyes roam over her.

“A lot of men stare at you,” he countered, lips curling when she looked over to him.

She blinked, brow creased before she flushed such a pretty shade of pink. He pushed away from the chair and Sansa’s eyes followed him warily until he had circled out of her line of sight and behind her.

He pressed his hands down on her shoulders, hearing her breath hitch as he leaned in close.

“Do you know how men look at women like you, sweet Sansa?”

“Yes,” she hissed, shooting him a cold look over her shoulder. “I know fine well what men think of doing to pretty women Jon.”

“Do you?” he murmured, his fingers stroking down the column of her neck, his teeth grazing against her ear. “And I thought you were a sweet and innocent young thing. I wonder what my sweet cousin has been up to in order to learn of such things.”

“I…I haven’t…” She trailed off with a blush.

“No?” he questioned, a hand trailing down to where her breasts strained against her dress with every harsh breath she took. “Harry hasn’t taken you yet?”

“No!”

He hummed with satisfaction, his fingers diving beneath her dress to find her nipple. Sansa gulped, eyes fluttering shut as his finger rubbed in slow, teasing circles.

He had noticed her staring at him as well, though she was much better at hiding it. Still, her attraction to him is clear, he only needs to break down her walls of propriety, make her come to his bed before she is made to marry Harry.

His fingers pinched her hardened bud and the daze that had claimed Sansa momentarily lifted.

“Stop!” she gasped, even as her body arched for more. He retracted his hand immediately.

“All these men picture you in their bed Sansa,” he murmured. “But you don’t belong with any of them. You’re a wolf, a Stark. You belong in my bed sweet girl.”

“I’m betrothed,” she hissed. Jon hummed, pressing kisses along her neck once more.

“For now,” he commented, stepping away from her. He stroked her cheek briefly before he left.

He would have her in his bed soon enough.

***

That little blonde prick was bragging about how he had won the battle of Winterfell, called for the wall to be smashed down so the army could charge through and defeat Ramsay.

“And it won’t be the only wall I’ll be smashing down,” he had laughed, giving a lewd wink.

Jon longed to wrap his hands around his throat.

Instead, he wandered to Sansa’s chambers.

She was in her bath, calling out for him to enter when she thought it to be her maid. She squeaked as she realised it was him, pressing herself to the side of the tub to shield herself.

“Jon! What are you doing?” she hissed.

“Can’t I come and see my sweet cousin?” he countered innocently.

Sansa narrowed her eyes as he sat down opposite her. “This is hardly appropriate!”

“Harry won’t notice a thing,” he quipped. He smirked at her. “He doesn’t notice much, does he? Just a pretty little wife for him to fuck a babe into.”

“Don’t talk of such filth!”

“It is what he wants though,” Jon countered, sliding to his knees and approaching the tub. “He won’t want you for you. Everybody wants your claim when they should want you.”

“You want me,” she retorted, eyes fixed on his face, a smug smile tugging at her mouth for how easily she could read him.

“Aye,” he agreed, reaching to brush her hair behind her ear, his palm cupping her cheek in the process and causing her eyes to flutter shut at the feeling. “And I’ll have you, my darling.”

“You’ll have to marry me if you want my maidenhead Jon,” she replied, opening her eyes again. Jon grinned, his hand trailing down to her shoulder.

“It isn’t the most romantic proposal but I’ll take it.”

He leaned forward, softly pressing his lips against hers. She tensed for a second before his hand reached up into her hair, pulling her forward. The angle meant her breasts peaked over the edge of the tub but she was so distracted from his kiss as he moved back to notice his hungry stare until his hand grasped the rounded flesh.

“Gods, your teats are perfect,” he growled, moving to kneel behind her. Sansa moaned, her head tipping back as his fingers stroked across the top of her breasts and around her nipples, never touching where she needed him to. He nuzzled his nose against her temple, like a wolf scenting his mate. “He won’t touch you like this Sansa.”

She whimpered softly as his thumbs stroked across her nipples, teasing them into hardness. Her back arched as he pinched them gently, her mouth parting with sweet little gasps. In her pleasured daze, he let his hand stroke down her left side down towards where he wants to be most.

Sansa’s legs snapped shut, her body tensing as she glared at him.

“You can’t Jon!” she hissed, shoving his hand away.

“I want you,” Jon growled, kissing her neck, licking along the column of her throat and relishing in the way she shivered.

“Jon…I have to marry Harry,” she sighed. “And I have to remain a maiden.”

“Has he had you at all?” Jon murmured.

“I just told you I need to remain a maiden,” Sansa replied in annoyance. Jon smiled, his thumb tracing her plump bottom lip.

“What about here?” he asked. Sansa blinked innocently. “Or has he had his mouth on you perhaps?”

“He has kissed me,” she agreed, confusion lacing her tone. Jon grinned.

“A lord’s kiss?”

“Jon, you’re annoying me with these cryptic messages.”

“I’ll show you then.”

She yelped as his hands hooked under her knees and around her back, hoisting her up out of the tub. She barely had time to catch her breath as her back hit her furs before he tugged on her legs, dragging her forward to his waiting mouth.

She squirmed, gasping out his name in shock as he spread her legs over his shoulders and shoved his head between her parted thighs.

Her protests quickly died as he sought out her nub, flicking his tongue insistently over it, pressing possessive kisses between his frantic licks.

He wanted to finger her, to feel her walls clench around him as she came but she had made it clear she wouldn’t surrender her maidenhead to him. And as much as it makes him burn with jealousy to think of Harry claiming her, he will respect her wishes.

For now.

Once she was married, he could bury himself inside her sweet cunt all he wants. She’ll not turn him away once she knows how unsatisfying her husband is bound to be in the bedchambers.

He gripped her legs tighter as she started to close them around his head, her body beginning to tense with her climax. Her whimpers were increasing and when he glanced up, her entire face was flushed, eyes closed and mouth parted in bliss.

He smirked at the sight and his tongue started to spell out his name across her clit. Sansa jerked and gasped, rocking her hips up desperately as her climax washed over her.

“He might claim your maidenhead,” Jon growled, pressing possessive kisses to her thighs and up her body until he claimed her mouth in a rough kiss that left her panting, lips plump with need. “But he’ll never have your pleasure.”

“I want it to be you,” she sighed. “I wish it could be Jon.”

Once, Jon Snow would know what he could and could not have. He would have accepted that Winterfell and a lady wife were not for him.

But he isn’t that Jon Snow anymore.

Now, all he wants is Sansa, all hours of the day. His lust for her has known no bounds since his return.

And now, her words had set his mind racing.

Jon Snow would never kill an innocent man, no matter how annoying and arrogant.

But Jon Targaryen would.

***

It had been far too easy to lure Harry away from the hunting party.

A little mention of a great beast that nobody had been able to bring down had got his interest. His ego already swelling with the thought of coming through Winterfell’s gates with it.

Jon had suggested they take more men to help. Harry had insisted he could bring the beast down himself, as Jon knew the arrogant shit would.

Still, he had commanded the men stay close enough to be able to charge in should assistance be needed.

“When will you and Sansa be wed?” Jon had asked. His eyes caught the movement of silver between the trees. His hands gripped the reigns in anticipation.

Harry shrugged. “We haven’t discussed it much. She wants to restore Winterfell first which I agree with. Can’t very well marry in a ruin.”

“Sansa is a Stark,” Jon commented. “She’s proud of Winterfell. She’s a wolf.”

Harry smirked. “Aye. I’d quite like to see a wolf in my bed.”

Jon snarled, teeth bared.

Nymeria leapt from the bushes, three wolves behind her and charging straight for Harry’s horse. Jon reared back, placing a calming hand on his own mare as more wolves stormed through the trees to surround the blonde boy.

“Jon!” Harry called out, his eyes wide with fear as he tried to get his mare to run.

Jon felt sorry for the beast, an innocent being punished for nothing. But innocents always suffered the most in wars. Wars of the battlefield or wars of the heart, it was all the same.

It made a terrible sound as it came down, its fear stanching the air. But at least it was gone quickly, the wolves were more interested in Harry, who had managed to get to his feet as the mare came down and grab his sword.

“Jon help me!” Harry gasped, stepping back as Nymeria advanced.

Ghost appeared beside Jon’s horse, his head bumping against Jon’s thigh as he watched his sister and her pack advance.

“I’m a wolf,” Jon commented casually. His smile was dark and cruel. “I won’t attack my pack.”

He turned his horse around, calling out for help as he galloped back in the direction of the men. Ghost remained, ready to chase the wolves away as Jon returned.

“They came from nowhere!” Jon explained. He grimaced at the sight of Harry, open and bleeding, eyes wide and unseeing.

The wolves hadn’t left much intact.

Jon wasn’t even sorry to think that the wolves had been more merciful than he would have been.

“What did you do?” Sansa hissed when the party returned and she was able to get him in private.

He said nothing. Sansa swallowed thickly.

“Jon,” she whispered. “Did you kill him?”

“No,” he replied honestly. Her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t, I swear. I never raised a hand to him at all. It was an accident.”

Sansa shook her head, whether signalling she didn’t believe him or accepting his answer, he didn’t know. But he didn’t care anyway.

Harry was gone.

Sansa would be his.

***

He married her three moons later.

He needed to make a decent time pass before suggesting the match, waiting for other Lords to start sniffing around her before putting his own name forward.

His Targaryen heritage may have gained him sour looks.

But his swordsman skills meant nobody dared question him when he declared that he would marry Sansa, unite the North and South and take the Stark name.

He had forbidden a bedding ceremony. Only he would undress his wife and only she would undress him.

She giggled softly as he nosed at her hair, smelling her sweet perfume. Her eyes fluttered shut as he stroked her neck.

His need to claim her as his own was overwhelming, making him touch her constantly. His wolf blood was howling, crying for him to take his mate already. She belonged with him and he would have her at last.

And when he tugged her away, his patience worn thin and his lust almost uncontrollable, she had blushed so prettily as she said goodnight to their guests while Jon tugged impatiently on her hand.

“Jon, what…?” she started, frowning as he lead her into the chambers that had once been Harry’s.

Jon merely smiled wolfishly, tugging her forward and turning her so he could reach for her laces.

“Here?” she hissed, eyes darting around as though expecting Harry to come out at any moment.

“Here,” Jon growled. Annoyed at the laces, he gripped her dress and pulled harshly, ripping the fabric. Sansa gasped in shock.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured gently, kissing her newly exposed shoulder. “I’ll be gentle. I just need you out of this.”

His hand reached around to cup her breast, squeezing the flesh softly until she sagged against him in submission. His other hand tugged at her skirts, letting them pull by her feet. He let his hand stroke along the hem of her stockings and he decided he wanted to keep them on her.

Sansa’s breath hitched as he grasped the ties of her smallclothes, pulling the knots apart slowly until the clothing fell away.

He hooked his arm under her knees and around her back, like he had done when she had been bathing. He held her in place by the hip with one hand as the other unlaced his breeches. Her eyes widened as they zoned in on his freed cock. But there would be time for her to see that later, he thought as his own eyes dropped to her glistening lips.

The feel of her silk stockings against his cheeks made him harder than ever as he dived down to the gap of her thighs where she was hot and waiting for him.

He licked her slowly, teasing her up towards a climax before retreating to kiss her nub instead. Her squirms, her desperate, needy whines were devine. But it wasn’t just teasing her, as much as he enjoyed doing so. He needed her slick enough to take him with as little pain as possible.

He pressed his tongue against her once more, pressing hard, fast licks over the sensitive flesh. She moaned and Jon pressed a finger at her entrance. She tensed, her head darting up to look at him over her breasts.

“Shh,” he murmured against her, kissing her twitching belly. “Relax sweetling.”

He lapped at her slowly, waiting for her long exhale and the tension to leave her thighs before he gently pressed again, pushing into the first knuckle.

“Oh!” Sansa gasped, a crease forming between her eyes.

“Mmm,” Jon groaned as his finger was gripped with her tight heat. “I can’t wait to have you!” he growled, using every ounce of self control to calm the beast in him that snapped at him to take her now. Sansa moaned, her hips canting up slowly as he returned to licking at her while his finger stretched her.

“Jon!” she groaned as he tested another finger at her entrance. She was tensing again, unsure of the new sensations. Jon shifted, pulling his finger out and tugging her legs up until her hips were off the bed. He devoured her then, lips and tongue moving so fast and hard she was crying out, her hands stretching out across the covers for purchase.

“Too...its too much!” she gasped as she rolled her hips against his eager mouth, her head tossing against the sheets, knuckles white as she gripped her furs. Jon ignored her, his pace never slowing as she shook around him.

Her back arched in a tight bow, her mouth parting with a long, guttural moan as her silk covered toes curled against his back. And as she flopped down, limp and sated on the bed, he took advantage of her compliance to angle her leg to the side, spreading her open for him so he could push two fingers inside of her.

She groaned at the feeling, brow creasing again. He leaned down to press a kiss to her lips.

“I know,” he murmured gently. “But you’ve never had a cock inside of you darling.” He bit her ear softly, his fingers pumping slowly as her muscles started to relax around them. “I have to get you ready.”

She whimpered as he moved his thumb, rubbing against her clit while his fingers curled inside of her. She was more than wet enough now, his fingers squelching lewdly as he moved them. But he wanted to make her cum again, wanted to hear her cry out his name for Harry’s ghost to hear.

Sansa had always been an obedient girl and when he told her what he wanted, she didn’t disappoint. Her sweet voice cried out his name between her desperate moans as he pushed her over the edge once more.

He pulled his fingers out, slipping them past his lips for another taste of her as she lay panting on the bed. He let his fingers drop away, tugging on her legs again to position them around his waist. His hand cupped her cheek, turning her to face him.

Her eyes widened as he pressed the tip of him at her entrance and he pushed forward before she could tense again. A sob caught in her throat as he broke through her maidenhead and he pressed a hard kiss to her temple, tracing a gentler path down her face.

The wolf in him howled in satisfaction. _Mine!_

When she nodded that he could move, he kept his movements slow and gentle, wanting to get her used to the sensation of him inside of her. Her face was no longer a grimace, she was no longer grunting in discomfort.

His hand slipped between them to press at her nub once more. Her legs twitched in surprise, a gasp catching in her throat. As he started rubbing in slow, gentle circles, Sansa’s nails dug into his shoulders, her head tilting back and eyes fluttering shut with the first stirrings of pleasure.

Satisfaction coursed through him at her reaction and he stroked her harder, building her higher until her limbs locked around him, her cunt squeezed him in a tight grip that had him growling, pushing his hips in fast, hard thrusts in the blind need to release inside of her.

After, sweating and panting, he pulled out and cradled her into his side. She was practically asleep, her eyes half-lidded and body easily moved to where he wanted it.

He sighed in contentment as he felt her steady breath against his neck and he stroked her back, letting her sleep.

Now that he had her as his wife, his mate, she would need all the rest she could get.


End file.
